


Innocents Among Us

by DreamingAngelWolf



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Assassins, Guards, M/M, Magic, Medieval-ish, Pre-Relationship, my shitty action sequences, royal family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 19:38:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7858420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingAngelWolf/pseuds/DreamingAngelWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the head of Prince Steven's Royal Guard, it's Bucky's duty to protect his best friend's life from any and all foes - even the ones who don't actually want to kill him...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Innocents Among Us

**Author's Note:**

> I'm apologising straight off because this is far from my best work. Like, leagues away. I'm uploading it, however, because this prompt came to me in December and I now have the upcoming Winterhawk Big Bang to focus on too, so in the name of fairness, I finished this one first. Man, it's been a struggle, though, and personally the whole thing feels rushed and unbalanced. Action is my weakest point, too, which you'll probably be able to see... ~~When did I start running myself ragged over fanfiction?~~
> 
> (Also, on an unrelated note, historical accuracy was the last thing I was concerned with here...!)

“Steve!” 

Spinning on the spot, Steve breathed out in relief when he saw Bucky returning. “They’re gone,” he said, and held up his shield, out from which stuck a number of arrows. “But they got their message across.” 

“If you’d had your proper shield, they wouldn’t even have managed that.” 

“The King told us to keep a low profile.” 

Bucky grunted, glancing over the rest of him. “You aren’t hurt?” 

“No casualties on our side.” 

“Good.” Bucky clapped him on the shoulder, then called out to the rest of the convoy: “Let’s be off then, and quickly. We don’t want them coming back to finish the job.” At his word, swords were sheathed and horses were mounted, and the Prince’s escort surrounded Steve in seconds. Bucky took his position directly behind him, scanning the tree line as they moved on lest any of the attackers tried their luck again. 

Up until a few moments ago, the trip from the Atlantis Shore to home had been blessedly uneventful. Bucky had warned everyone to watch for bandits, but they hadn’t seen a single group beyond travelling craftsmen, pilgrims, moving families and a nomadic elf clan, who’d kept their distance. Despite their unofficial dress some people had still recognised Steve, pausing to bow as the convoy passed, but nobody had shown direct hostility towards them until they’d stopped for lunch: a handful of archers, from what Bucky had been able to see. They hadn’t tried hard to do much damage, thankfully, and the escort had kept Steve alive, so all he could do was chalk it up to a regular bandits’ attack. It hadn’t felt like one, though. 

“Bucky!” 

Sam rode up on Bucky’s left. There were many who thought it strange that the court falconer was part of the formal venture to Atlantis, but Bucky always insisted on his presence. Aside from being a good friend, he was a valuable asset to Steve’s protection detail. He nodded a greeting, immediately asking, “What do we know about them?” 

“Well, there was four of them,” Sam began. “Three archers, one with throwing knives. None of the three you left us with stuck around for a closer fight, though.” 

Bucky grimaced. “Can’t say I’m surprised.” 

“Redwing’s keeping an eye out,” Sam said, pointing up at the sky. “Guessing you didn’t get your guy either?” 

“No,” he said, shaking his head. For an archer, the man had been well-trained in one-on-one combat, and Bucky had found himself somewhat caught off-guard. The man’s bow had been much stronger than he was expecting, too, easily withstanding the blows from Bucky’s two-handed sword as if it was metal itself. It could have been enchanted, of course, but if there was no mage with the group, then who had he gone to? Or was there a mage, and they just hadn’t been spotted? 

“Looks like he got a hit in, though.” 

Bucky blinked. “Hm?” When Sam pointed to his left shoulder, he was mildly surprised to find a tear in his sleeve, the edges wet and dark. “Oh.” 

“That’s why you should wear more armour than just a breastplate,” Sam said, pointedly. 

Scowling at him, Bucky grumbled, “It’s restricting.” The archer he’d chased hadn’t had much in the way of protective armour on his arms either. 

“I told you, Stark can make you something you’re comfortable with.” 

“And charge me an arm for it.” 

“You know he wouldn’t.” 

“Why don’t you get armour for Redwing, then?” 

Sam snorted. “Are you serious?” Bucky didn’t answer, and Sam shook his head. “Right. Well for your information, I asked her about it, and she was as fond of the idea as you are.” 

“Yet I’m the one you moan at?” 

“You’re the one bleeding at my side.” 

Reluctantly, Bucky conceded the point. “I’ll get it looked at when we reach the castle,” he said, hoping to placate Sam somewhat. “Will you let me know what Redwing saw when she comes back?” 

“I don’t have this curse for nothing,” he said, and fell back into rank. 

As they carried on riding in silence, Bucky kept his eyes open for the group that attacked them, unable to drag his thoughts away from the archer he’d chased. He hadn’t worn any insignia, suggesting he hadn’t been sent by a rival king or queen, but his equipment suggested he was more than just an average bandit. He and his group were bold, too, attacking a guarded prince in broad daylight on an open road. Nothing about him made sense. 

_“You’re not going to hurt my face, are you?”_

_Bucky faltered. “What?”_

_“I’m told it’s my best feature.”_

_He tried to process that for a moment, then resumed the fight, swinging again at the impossibly strong bow. “Why are you attacking the prince?”_

_The archer frowned. “I thought Prince Steven was fair-haired?”_

_“He is. You shot at him.”_

_“But you’re the one who came after me.”_

_Confused, Bucky pushed him away a few paces, pausing to try and understand the statement. “What does that mean?”_

_The archer grinned. “We’ll see.” In the blink of an eye he fired again, the arrow flying straight for Bucky’s left shoulder. Bucky managed to twist and avoid it, but when he looked back, the archer was gone._

Why had it mattered that Bucky was the one to go after him? Had he wanted Steve to pursue him further? So he could lure him away from the safety of his detail? 

Growing concerned, Bucky rode up to Steve’s side. “The men that attacked us,” he said. “I don’t think they were bandits.” 

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You don’t?” 

“No. The one I chased had better equipment than any bandit I’ve ever come across – enchanted, I think – and he wasn’t bearing any colours.” 

His brow furrowed. “Was he a mage?” 

“It would be unusual for a mage to fight with a bow instead of his magic.” 

“Mmh,” Steve hummed, nodding in agreement. “What did you make of him?” 

Bucky shrugged, feeling the gash in his shoulder flair up with the movement. “He was odd. Talked a lot. Didn’t make much sense. A good fighter, though – used his bow like a sword.” 

“Like a sword? Really?” 

“Which is why I think it was enchanted. I didn’t even make a scratch on it.” 

Steve looked at him. “You think they were assassins.” 

The idea made his stomach flip, but Bucky nodded all the same. “They were prepared. The first shot was aimed at you. I think he wanted you to go after him.” 

“Draw me away, make me more vulnerable.” 

“Perhaps.” 

Mulling it over, Steve asked, “Can you get in touch with Natasha, see if she’s heard something?” 

“I’ll send a messenger as soon as we’re back.” He reached out to knock Steve’s shoulder, smiling. “Whoever they are, they’re not going to make a scratch on you.” 

Smirking, Steve said, “Unlike you, I see?” 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I’ll talk to Stark.” 

“You’d better. How are you going to protect me if you’re not protected yourself?” 

“Prince Steven, do my ears deceive me, or are you asking for protection?” 

Steve laughed loudly. If he was trying to fool Bucky into thinking the incident was already out of mind, it wasn’t working. 

***

Leaving Stark’s smithy with a brand new set of armour plates was not what Bucky had been expecting when he woke up that morning. He was impressed that the blacksmith had managed to design and craft something so quickly for him, and made the mistake of questioning the armour’s integrity. 

“You did what?” 

Bucky sighed, glowering Sam’s way. “I was just a bit suspicious that he’d made it so quickly, is all. I said as much, and he went on a long rant about it being the same material as Steve’s shield, and how that hadn’t ever been scratched, and it was pre-enchantments…” 

Sam laughed, clapping him on his unprotected shoulder. “It’s a good thing you and Tony Stark agree on one thing.” 

Raising an eyebrow, Bucky asked, “What’s that?” 

“Protecting the prince.” 

He snorted, looking down at the bright, shiny plates that covered his left arm from shoulder to fingertip. “He even engraved it,” he muttered, fingering the large star emblem on his upper arm. “To match Steve’s shield, he said.” 

“Interesting.” 

“Really?” 

“No.” 

Bucky thumped him half-heartedly, and turned his eyes sky-ward. A familiar bird was soaring above them in wide, slow circles, and he shielded his gaze against the sun to watch her. Redwing’s presence never made him nervous, exactly, but it always put him on alert; Steve was in the castle with the King and Queen, so Redwing was likely just protecting Sam, and he knew he had little reason to worry. Yet… 

“You should think about getting it enchanted, anyway,” Sam was saying. “As legendary as the Starks’ work with vibranium is, you can never be too careful these days.” 

“Yeah… Hey.” Bucky pointed at Redwing. “Is she coming down to us?” 

Sam looked up too, squinting at his bird’s growing silhouette. “Seems so,” he said, and held out his arm for her when she was in reach. “Hey, beautiful. What is it?” 

Redwing let out a string of bird noises that made no sense to Bucky whatsoever. Sam’s darkening expression, however, he understood. “Has she seen something?” 

“Yeah,” Sam said, throwing his hawk off into the sky again. “She’s been watching the castle while we were gone. Apparently there’s someone in a strange colour on the walls.” 

“A strange colour?” Bucky echoed, the two of them already heading back. “What did she mean by that?” 

Shaking his head, Sam said, “Not sure, but she didn’t like it.” 

“I thought you could talk to her?” 

“I can. Doesn’t mean she knows exactly what she saw.” 

“That’s useful. Why birds, and not dogs or cats instead? I bet they’re much easier to understand.” 

“The words ‘curse’ and ‘choice’ never appear in the same sentence, Barnes. Just be grateful I wasn’t stuck with something like ants, or squirrels.” 

“Squirrels could be –” 

“Shut up.” 

Once they reached the castle gateway, Bucky and Sam immediately started searching for the mysteriously coloured figure. They scanned the faces of everyone they passed, scrutinised every guardsman on duty, and looked high and low for anyone who might appear strange. Bucky was putting every effort into the search – it had only been seven days since the road attack on Steve. The likelihood that the person who had caught Redwing’s attention was one of that same group was high. It was as he was scanning the top of the wall near the keep that he spotted a flash of purple. 

“I’ve seen something,” he said to Sam, keeping his gaze on the wall. “Someone’s wearing a purple coat.” 

“Don’t see much purple around here,” Sam mused. 

“Especially not among the peasantry…” 

They shared a concerned look. Sam said, “I’ll go and find Steve,” and Bucky nodded, going in the opposite direction to chase down the purple stranger. 

Up on the walls, he followed the direction he thought the person had gone in, one hand ready to draw his sword if necessary. He tried to think like an archer, wondering briefly if it was the same man he faced before, and sought out the bright clothing that gave him away. It was an odd choice for an assassin, if that was what he was – why not pick a colour more ‘mundane’ or neutral-toned? Something to help blend in rather than stand out? Purple was normally worn by mages or travelling entertainers, or nobles looking to draw the attention of the Courts. What was this man aiming for? 

As he rounded the corner, Bucky spotted his target again. In a long purple coat, the man was leaning over the wall’s edge, looking down into the castle courtyard, his bow and quiver slung over his back. A moment later, and his intentions became clear. 

“Hey!” 

Bow now in hand, the archer turned sharply at Bucky’s cry, and in a flash fired an arrow his way. Bucky was just able to avoid it, drawing his sword as the assassin ran off, and giving chase. He wasn’t going to let the man escape again. 

“Why are you here?” he demanded once he had the archer cornered. “What does killing the Prince achieve?” 

The two of them came together again, sword meeting bow and not making so much as a dent in the wood. Skipping back, the archer grinned. “Nice armour,” he said, motioning towards the new plates. “You wearing any more of it somewhere I can’t see?” 

Pausing, Bucky frowned. “No.” He attacked again, not wanting to be caught off-guard anymore than he already was. 

“Eh,” the man said, ducking under Bucky’s swing. “That’s a shame. Think I’d enjoy taking it off.” 

“Well I’ll enjoy finding out what’s under that coat.” He stopped again, surprised this time by his own words. 

The archer laughed. “Why? Do you want to get to know me better?” 

“You’re a thorn in my side,” Bucky growled. 

“You mean I’ve been on your mind.” 

Bucky swung at him again, frustrated. Once more the move was useless – the archer neatly flipped high overhead, landing close to the edge of the ramparts and putting one foot on the wall. 

“If you must know,” he said, pulling an arrow with an odd head out of his quiver, “I’m not doing this for personal gain. Not really, anyway.” 

“Then who hired you?” 

He hesitated. “Can’t say.” And with that, he jumped. Suddenly concerned for his safety, Bucky ran over to the spot, almost getting his nose clawed off by the strangely shaped arrow, which dug into the stonework instead. When he looked over the side, though, there was no sign of anyone. 

***

The third time it happened, Bucky was finally victorious. 

When Steve had said he was going to the nearby lake for a quieter practice session, Bucky – who was most certainly not thinking about the archer every passing day – insisted on taking the royal shield along, having found vibranium to be an effective form of protection against arrows four days previously. It was a good decision; what had started out as a morning of easy sparring turned into a chase through the trees, avoiding arrows flying at their heads as they tried to follow the purple streak darting above them. Helpfully, a branch broke in front of them, and Steve’s assailant came crashing down to the forest floor with all the grace of a confused boar. 

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, even as Bucky held the tip of his sword at the archer’s neck. 

After a groan, the archer said, “I’ve had worse,” making Bucky scoff. 

“Who are you?” Steve didn’t sound angry, just (overly) concerned. 

Frowning, he said, “Why do you care?” 

“You just tried to kill me – for the third time. I would kind of like to know.” 

“… Oh.” He seemed to think about it for a moment. “Clint.” 

“Just ‘Clint’?” 

“Barton.” 

Steve nodded. “Clint Barton. Where are you from?” 

“What does that matter?” 

“Just answer the question,” Bucky growled, earning himself a scowl from both Steve and Clint. 

“Nowhere special.” 

“Fine,” Steve said, cutting Bucky off. “Why are you trying to kill me?” 

Beneath them, Clint swallowed. “It’s nothing personal,” he muttered. 

“That’s not an answer,” Bucky said, applying a little more pressure with his sword. 

“Easy, Buck,” Steve warned. “Let’s get him back to the castle, see if Bruce can tend to him.” To Clint, he said, “You’re not going to try anything on the way, are you?” 

Clint put a hand on his heart. “On the life of the King,” he said, smirking. Steve picked him up a little roughly after that, and Bucky didn’t blame him. 

“So,” Clint said once he’d been put on Bucky’s horse and they’d set off, Steve riding ahead. “Your name’s Buck?” 

Squeezing the reins, Bucky grimaced. “It’s James,” he said stiffly. “Bucky is a nickname.” 

“Bucky?” Clint chuckled. “Not heard that one before.” Bucky chose to ignore him. “Wait, how do you get that from James?” 

“None of your business.” 

“Come on, it’s a long ride –” 

“And I will drop you off if you annoy me at any point.” 

For a moment, Clint was quiet. “That seems mean.” 

“More so than assassinating the Prince?” 

“I already told you, it’s not perso- ah!” 

The thump he made when he landed on the ground was hugely satisfying, and Bucky very nearly rode off without him. But Steve, damned good soul that he was, turned around with his disapproving look, and Bucky found himself sliding out of his saddle. 

“If it isn’t personal,” he said, hauling Clint up to his feet, “why are you doing it?” 

Clint wavered slightly in Bucky’s hands, holding his shoulder. When he raised his head to meet his gaze, the bright charm and cockiness was gone from his features. “They’ve got my village.” 

“What?” Bucky said. “Who has? How?” 

He shook his head, breaking eye contact. “None of your business.” 

“If someone you care about is in trouble, we can help.” 

“No!” Clint said sharply. “No. Just…” 

Bucky waited. “Just…?” 

Shrugging out of his hold, Clint stepped backwards. “I’m sorry.” 

As Bucky opened his mouth, a high-sounding crack split the air between them, and smoke flew up into his face. He coughed harshly, hearing his horse shriek somewhere beside him, and when he was able to move himself around the grey cloud that had formed around him Bucky was dismayed to see that Clint was, again, nowhere to be seen. 

“What was that?” Steve said, dropping from his horse as he rode up, shield on his arm. 

Pulling his sword out too, Bucky told him, “Clint’s gone. Said something about his village being in trouble, and then… poof.” There was no sign of his horse either. “Shit.” 

“We need to find him –” 

“No, Steve, we need to go. It isn’t safe here anymore.” 

“Bucky, he sounds like he could be in trouble.” 

“I offered him help. He declined.” Eyes still on their surroundings, Bucky steered Steve back towards the remaining horse. “And no offence, Steve, but if you go around making friends with the people who try and kill you, one day they’ll succeed.” 

With the shield still on his arm, Steve mounted up and pulled Bucky on behind him. “If we can do something, we should,” he said. “Helping him might make him change his mind.” 

Sighing, Bucky said, “Why anyone wants to assassinate you is beyond me.” 

“Really?” His smirk was audible. “I always thought you would be first in line.” 

“Exactly. The privilege is mine.” Steve laughed, and set the horse off at a canter. Bucky didn’t relax until they passed under the portcullis a short while later. 

***

The ground met his head with the same tenderness as it had the previous two times that day, and Clint grunted as another bump added itself to the collection on his skull. 

“What the hell happened?” 

He sighed into the dirt. “I got caught.” 

“No shit.” 

“Please don’t tell us you were trying a new tactic?” 

“He didn’t have his bow. There was fuck all he could have done.” 

“Wow,” Clint grunted, forcing himself up. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Jacques.” 

Jacques Duquesne glared at him, then spat at the ground and stood up. “You said he could do this.” 

In the corner of the room, Clint’s brother shrugged. “He can.” 

“We haven’t seen much evidence of that,” Buck Chisholm said from behind Clint. “The Prince’s right-hand man seems capable of slowing him down on his own.” 

“So we take him out, too,” Jacques said. “Claim a bigger bounty.” 

Barney said, “But the poster was just for the Prince.” 

“We’ll demand more, then!” 

“I’m not killing anyone else,” Clint said, eyes still on the ground. He felt Jacques close the gap between them, the bigger man’s breath ghosting against the top of his head. 

“Chisholm,” he said. “Take Barton. Go and check the charges.” 

With a heavy sigh, Buck stepped outside, Barney following him. When the door closed behind them, Clint met Jacque’s gaze. It was probably obvious that his heart was hammering in his chest, but he’d long since mastered the art of pretence. 

“Three times you’ve failed,” Jacques said. “I’ve already raised the stakes twice, so who else should I add to the list?” 

“No-one,” Clint said quickly. “I can do it, I swear.” 

Jacques laughed. “Forgive me for being sceptical.” 

“Look, I – I know what’s at stake here. Just give me –” 

“Do you, kid? Because if your dog, your sweetheart, your village and your own brother aren’t good enough incentive, what is?” 

“Kate isn’t my…” Clint’s heart stopped hammering for a second. “Wait, Barney was never –” 

“He is now,” Jacques said. “And won’t he feel betrayed, knowing his life was on the line and you chose a Prince over him?” 

With his stomach flipping, Clint begged one more time; “Jacques, I promise, I can make this happen. Maybe – maybe I’ll need some help, but I promise you, I can kill the Prince. I never miss. All I need is the shot.” 

Jacques scrutinised him down his nose. The seconds scraped by before he sniffed, saying, “You have one more week. Fail again, and all those innocents pay the price.” Stunned, Clint nodded. “Now get out of here.” 

He didn’t hesitate. Still hurting from both of his earlier falls, Clint decided visiting Wanda would be a good idea. She rolled her eyes at him when he shuffled into her tent, but gestured him over to the pallet anyway. 

“Another tree branch?” she asked, the magic flowing from her fingers over his sore muscles. 

“You say that like I make a habit of it.” 

“I am not yet convinced that you don’t.” 

“… In my defence, I was being chased.” Wanda tutted. “What? He was handsome, you would approve.” 

“Of a man who chases you until you fall out of a tree?” 

Clint winced. “That doesn’t sound good, does it?” 

She beckoned him to turn over. “Why was a handsome man chasing you through trees?” 

Humming, Clint said, “I sort of asked for it. I tried – I mean, I almost killed his friend.” 

“Well,” she said, “that is one way to get someone’s attention. The wrong kind, I think.” 

Clint grunted, and she smiled sweetly at him. “He offered to help me with a problem, though,” he mumbled a moment later. 

“Did he?” 

“Yeah.” Feeling better, he sat up, rolling his shoulder to ease out any remaining stiffness. 

“And?” 

“And what?” 

“Did you take him up on his offer?” 

He said nothing, but that was apparently answer enough. 

“Clint,” Wanda said gently, “if you have a problem and someone says they are willing to help you, why would you turn them down?” 

“Because he could get hurt,” he admitted. “Seriously hurt. And he doesn’t deserve that.” 

“Neither do you.” 

Clint looked up. “I didn’t say…” 

She smiled at him, eyes tinged with a sad fondness. “You didn’t have to.” 

A master of pretence, huh? Clint cursed himself inwardly, clearing his throat and covering up any last traces of vulnerability. “So, uh… I need a new bow.” 

***

“Clint Barton? I haven’t heard that name before.” 

Taking the poster with Steve’s face on it back from Natasha, Bucky raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Really? Nothing about a man in purple at all?” 

“Men in purple tend to like their names being known,” she pointed out. “Are you sure that’s his real name?” 

“No,” Bucky admitted on a sigh, and leant back against the tavern wall. “It doesn’t make sense,” he said. “There hasn’t been any word of a village in need of assistance, and I can’t see how Steve’s death could be relevant to that anyway. If this bounty really is circulating the assassins’ circles, why is there only one man making an attempt? And supposedly against his will?” 

“Many people do things for strange reasons, James. You of all people should know that,” Natasha reminded him. 

Bucky gave her a sideways glance. “Those days are long behind us.” 

“Not so long ago that we should forget –” 

“I said we would help him,” he said. “I meant it too, but he didn’t even consider it.” 

“So perhaps there’s an element of pride involved,” she said. “He might be well-known in his home.” 

“We don’t know where that is.” 

“We can easily find out. I can send word to Maria and –” 

“That’s him.” 

Not missing a beat, Natasha turned towards the door. “The light-haired man who just entered?” 

“Yeah.” Bucky watched as Clint carefully made his way around the crowded tavern, keeping his head down but his eyes watchful. He wasn’t wearing the purple coat he’d had nearly two weeks ago, and Bucky recognised the stance of a man trying not to be noticed. Seeing him in the tavern had been a surprise, but it wasn’t much of one when he joined Bucky and Natasha at their table. 

“Uh…” He rubbed his head awkwardly, messing up his already dirty hair. “So, maybe I’d like to take you up on that offer of help.” 

Bucky shared a glance with Natasha. “What made you change your mind?” 

Clint shrugged. “A friend talked some sense into me. And I… I think I might be in deep trouble. Too deep to get out by myself without hurting a lot of people.” He looked up at Bucky. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.” 

“Who might be at risk?” Natasha asked. 

Giving her a wary look, Clint said, “Innocent people. And one not-so-innocent person. And a dog.” 

“A dog?” Bucky echoed. 

“He’s a great dog.” 

“… Right.” Filing that piece of information away, he sat back with a sigh. “So what, exactly, will happen to them? Are we talking magic? A small scale attack? A large one?” 

“A large one. They’ve set up fire-enchanted rocks around all the houses, and they’re threatening to set them all off if I don’t kill Prince Steve.” 

“They who?” 

“That’s not important.” 

Bucky leaned forward. “‘Not important’? These are the people blackmailing you –” 

“And I want to deal with them,” Clint said. “I should have a long time ago, before the people I care about were threatened. It’s up to me to make things right, and with your help, I can.” 

“Why should we trust you?” Natasha said, startling Clint. “This could easily be another way to get close to the Prince.” 

Bucky agreed with her, but Clint looked taken aback by the suggestion. “That does sound like something an assassin would do,” he said. 

“Takes one to know one.” 

His eyes widened. “Wait,” he said, looking between Bucky and Natasha incredulously. “There’s a Royal Assass-” 

“We’ll help you, but the Prince stays out of it,” Bucky said. “We can draw these people out, allow you to get a shot at them, and in the meantime we’ll help the people you’re worried for.” 

Clint shook his head. “Drawing them out won’t be easy. If Prince Steven –” 

“Gets so much as a bruise, you’ll be the one left holding the fire rocks.” Bucky stared Clint down, emphasising his words; “The Prince stays out of this. We’ve made our offer, now it’s your turn to accept it.” He still looked hesitant, so Bucky softened his tone. “I know how much you care about those people. It’s written all over your face, and I’ve felt that same worry, that fear that you might lose someone because of a mistake you made. I also know that that means you’d be willing to do anything to save them.” 

His brow furrowed. “Did you?” 

“… I lost seven years.” 

“Oh…” Clint dropped his eyes to the table for a moment, and when he lifted them again, the indecision in them was gone. “Alright,” he said. “We’ll do it your way.” 

***

“You are a traitor, Barton!” the man with the knives spat as he was dragged off. “Others will always pay for your mistakes!” 

“Not the innocent ones,” Clint muttered, tucking an arrow back into his quiver. He looked back at Bucky. “You’ll go easy on them?” 

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, wiping his forehead. “If Steve has anything to do with it, they won’t suffer unduly, but because he was their target, I doubt the King will let him see them.” Clint nodded, looking a bit miserable. “I’m sorry about your brother.” 

“Eh. He got himself involved. As did you, actually, and you didn’t have to, so…” He smiled. “Thank you.” 

It was nice to see him smiling, Bucky thought, and smiled back. “My pleasure.” 

Chuckling, Clint said, “I guess this is usually the part where the maiden and the knight fall in love, isn’t it?” 

“In the stories they do. Although, I don’t see any maidens nearby.” 

“No…” He jerked his head, blinking hard. “Uh – so, what happens now?” 

“Now?” Bucky looked around. The soldiers they’d ‘borrowed’ from the King’s army were busy cleaning up the remains of their trap, and Natasha and Sam were overseeing the transport of Clint’s former friends. He caught their eyes, and they both winked at him. “I don’t know.” 

The two of them shuffled where they stood for a moment. Bucky was wondering if it would be possible to find an excuse to go to Clint’s village when Clint said, “You know, I haven’t been to any of the taverns around here besides the one we talked at. Any recommendations for some good ale? And, um… company?” 

Bucky’s smile grew into a grin. “Yeah,” he said, “I think I can help with that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Forced Assassin Clint! is hired to kill Steve a prince/millionaire/ whatever you want. And Bucky protects Steve. Clint comes back though every time but they are so evenly matched and they flirt while they fight. Bucky researched Clint and gets Clint and whatever /secret/ family member/ item/ dog is forcing him (dad/brother) or who/ what being held hostage to make Clint kill (your choice) and frees Clint where they get their cutesy/ sext ending."
> 
> Well done if you made it through, and thank you for persevering! Hope it wasn't too bad... I'm gonna go cry over my Big Bang piece now...


End file.
